


The Loneliest Beings in Existence

by literaryoctopus



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:55:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryoctopus/pseuds/literaryoctopus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A weeping angel who falls in love with a human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Loneliest Beings in Existence

In the small town of Annecy, France, there was an ancient graveyard with a rusted iron gate. The crumbling, moss-covered gravestones were joined by a stone statue of an angel. This statue never dirtied or crumbled, and no moss or lichen ever grew on the surface

In this town, a man had grown from infancy to adulthood. His name was Nicolas Barnett; he was not especially handsome and did not turn many heads. He was, however, known for his kind smile and gentle manner. These qualities are what piqued the interest of a statue that was more animate than most.

She had no name that any but another of her kind could understand. She was quite content to sit in the abandoned cemetery and watch the humans of the town go about their daily lives. There were no others of her kind for miles, and she preferred it this way. The rest of her breed were monsters. She was as well, but she felt remorse every time she sent someone into the past. Her sisters fed on humans with a perverse feeling of satisfaction and relish that disgusted her. She ridiculed humans’ unseemly greed and pettiness, but that did not mean she didn’t value their lives. She only wished more felt this way.

This angel did not hide her face, for she had no reason to worry about seeing another angel and being permanently made of stone. She stood tall in the cemetery, gazing disdainfully at the humans who hurried past her domain. That was how Nicolas Barnett came to her attention: He did not avert his gaze and pick up his pace when he strode past the graveyard. If anything, he slowed down, looking respectfully at the headstones. He never entered; no one ever did. Not even the eldest townspeople knew any of the names on the markers.

The angel straightened her wings when she saw him approaching, wanting to appear as beautiful as possible for him. He always smiled when he saw her, and she liked it when he smiled; it was the best part of her day. Had she been more human, she might have realized what she felt was love. But she wasn’t: She stood, unmoving, every time someone saw her.

There was no way he could know she wasn’t a true statue, that was painfully clear. So she contented herself with looking as beautiful as possible for Nicolas Barnett and scraping away any moss that dared to try growing on her. She liked having her face uncovered, and his gaze made her feel like less of a monster.

A painful reminder of her abnormality appeared, as they are prone to do. Nicolas Barnett began to look at her strangely as he passed, instead of with his usual awe. She didn’t like his new expression of suspicion at all; it made her lonely and unhappy. She began to miss his friendly gaze as the odd looks continued, so she stopped scraping away the mosses and lichens that grew on the hem of her dress. She stopped cleaning her feathers, and they deteriorated with the lack of care.

Then, one day, he walked into the graveyard, all the while keeping his eyes on her. She wanted to move, to scream at him and frighten him away, but she couldn’t fight her biology. He kept approaching until he stood right before her. He didn’t blink as he raised a hand and placed it on her cheek, his head tilted to the side in confusion as his palm met cold stone. He looked down, and she knew he had blinked when she felt herself turn into her natural state. She jerked away, but she knew all had been in vain when she felt her lips glide across his skin. He looked up when he felt the warmth in the tiny brush of skin and caught a glimpse of her changed position before disappearing from sight. She felt the rush of potential energy that was released from his disappearance and screamed a wordless scream that, in any language, would translate into one of rage, sadness, and regret.

She frantically searched through the headstones around her, hoping she’d see his name and at the same time praying that she wouldn’t. It was then that she saw a square stone urn she’d never seen before in all her years being the only living denizen of the graveyard. The epitaph read: Nicolas J. Barnett, Beloved Husband and Father. She rushed over to the urn, throwing herself on top of it. Nicolas Barnett, the only creature she’d had some semblance of a friendship with, was dead. She’d killed him by attempting to save his life. She really was the monster she’d pretended to not be for so long.

And so the weeping angel truly wept for the first time in her life.


End file.
